Perception
by The Treacle Tart
Summary: Hermione is very perceptive. R-H-HR, R-H. Warning: contains slash. COMPLETE


**Title: Perception**  
**Pairing:** R/H/Hr, R/H  
**Rating:** R (ish)  
**Disclaimer:** Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain. She is a fraud and owns nothing.  
**Summary:** Hermione is very perceptive.  
**Notes:** Many thanks to Diana for her insight and encouragement.

**Perception**

Hermione studies history and methodology.  Hermione studies runes and equations. Hermione studies words and theories.  

Hermione studies Harry.  He sits on the couch with a cup of tea in his hands and closely examines the wisps of steam gently rising into the air, ignoring the condensation misting over his glasses.  He's ashen and thin, quiet and listless, and very nearly not even there.   A slight tremble in his hand as he lifts the cup to his face causes a bit to spill on his jumper, dotting the fabric in a jagged line just over his heart.  

Hermione studies Ron.  Ron sits across from Harry, always across from Harry.  His head is down, blue eyes staring through the curtain of red fringe falling in front of his face.  The freckles dappled along his cheeks and nose almost glow against his pallid skin.  The forefinger on his right hand slowly rubs against his thumbnail in tight circles.  He chews on his lower lip.  

It is the summer.  Sirius Black is still dead. 

Hermione notices the way Harry looks at Ron.  She sees confusion on his weary face.  She sees longing.  He aches.

Hermione notices the way Ron looks at Harry.  She sees confusion on his weary face.  She sees longing.  He aches.

It is a sultry August evening and there is a meeting of the Order.  Conversation leads to debate that leads to shouting.  Snape is cruel. Moody is mistrustful.  Molly is unnerved. Remus is shattered.  Sirius is still dead. Harry seems to grow smaller with every word, Ron inches slightly closer to him.  Harry tries to hide.  Ron tries to hide him.  Harry is broken.  Ron wants to fix him.  

Hermione understands.

She enters the room where they sit next to each other, their knees slightly touching, one each pair of eyes careful to avoid the other.  She kneels in front of Harry placing herself between his knees.  She slowly reaches up, taking his face in hands, rubbing her thumbs against his hollow cheeks.  She kisses him.  His eyes are wide and his lips still.  She kisses him again and now, he kisses back.  Slowly at first, then harder, and harder still.  He is shaking.

She pulls away and reaches over to where Ron is sitting red faced and slack-jawed.  She pulls him up by the collar and grabs the back of his neck and kisses him as well. 

Ferociously. 

He falls to his knees besides her and grabs her by the waist, nearly lifting her off the ground.  His fingers dig into her hips, his mouth covering hers completely.  She nearly disappears in his embrace.   

Later, she takes them both by the hand and leads them upstairs.

Hermione lies between them, mouth on one, hand on the other, limbs intertwined. Minutes, hours, days pass.  She always lies in between.  They look at each other, but never touch.  

The summer passes.

One night, the moon is high and full, its blue beams the only light in the silent room.  Hermione slowly reaches over and grabs Ron's hand, bringing it to where Harry's lays on her abdomen.  Their fingers touch and they both look up at each other, searching for something.  Eyebrows crease in dawning realization and two frightened faces inch their way towards each other.  Their lips hover, slightly brushing.  Someone sighs and suddenly their mouths fuse together.  The only thing coming between them is a moist tongue sliding in and out, leaving glistening trails on swollen lips. 

It is a drink of cool water after wandering a desert in the blazing sun for days.   It is a breath of life.  It is salvation. Ron's face is pained.  He is hurting from the kiss.  Harry face is drained of the little color it possessed.  He is terrified.  

Hermione aches.

When Ron makes love to Hermione, he is claiming and passionate.  He devours with tongue and teeth, he is insistent and unrelenting.  But where Ron consumes, Harry savors.  He is gentle and soft, wrapping himself around her, his hands covering her body in a long, lingering caress.  

When Ron makes love to Harry he holds him carefully, like a porcelain doll.  His movements are tender, his touch delicate.  There is reverence and adulation in his embrace, there is worship.  Harry's movements are forceful, demanding as he claws Ron's skin, marking it.  He bites Ron's neck when he peaks and buries fingernails into his back.  Always face to face.  Always a single tear slides down his face.

_When they make love to each other I do not exist.  Nothing exists outside of the connection they feel for one another.  They stare at each other blocking everything else out.  Everyone else. They are drowning in their emotions.  Even I find it hard to breath as I watch them.  I suffocate in their love.  And I slowly die.  _

Hermione walks out of the room they shared for the last few weeks of summer.  She turns once more to see them asleep, Ron's arms wrapped protectively around Harry who is trying to burrow his way into Ron's shoulder.  It's time to return to the comfort of history and methodology, of runes and equations, of words and theories.  She gently brings her fingers to her lips and softly blows them a kiss.  She says goodbye.

_Finis_


End file.
